That Mad Girl from District Four
by Oriel Subtle
Summary: Annaelie Cresta never expected to be reaped; never expected to kill; never expected to watch as her best friend died... Most of all, she never expected to be caught naked by Finnick Odair. This is her story. Please R&R!
1. The Basement

**Hello there **** My new and first fic for the Hunger Games, following Annie Cresta: Hope you enjoy!**

Thunder. Again. Rain. Again. My net drops as I catch a glimpse of lightening hitting the rods that protrude from the large metal fences that surround the District: protecting us, once again. Everyone's inside by now, but I raise my face to the freezing droplets of water, allowing them to soak my hair and clothes; opening my mouth and tasting the sweet water, mixed with only a few pollutants. It doesn't have a tang of salt or the chemical taste of iodine that I'm used to. Hurricane season is my favourite time of year.

I can hear someone calling me now, my father probably, over the crash of the waves on the pebbles, but I ignore it. They'll only pull me in, make me take cover from the storm. The storm won't harm me. It's the world outside the storm that does that. I undo the zip of my blue jumpsuit, and climb out of it so that I'm left in my spray-on wetsuit. They're both courtesy of the Capitol of course: a gift to us, the people of Four, as we fish for their food and purify their water. The turquoise wet suit glitters unnecessarily. It's typically Capitol: showy and more than a little ridiculous, but sturdy too, perfect for someone like me.

I take the dive at a run, my bare feet slapping over the smooth pebbles on the beach and suddenly crunching into seaweed and sand before I hit the seething water. It immediately covers me, pushing me and pulling me in a million different directions as the storm breaks heavily. I sometimes find myself wishing that the water will crush me, or there'll be a typhoon, or maybe some sort of whirlpool, and I'll be taken away from Four forever, into some kind of land away from all the districts and their wars and their hurt. Somewhere like the wildlands maybe. Perhaps there's a desert island out there. I could happily live out my days on a desert island, alone, with the 'Hostile Wild' as it's called at school. It's the people and the towns that scare me.

I shake my head firmly beneath the waves. There's no point thinking like that. I have to force myself to think of what is real. My name is Annaelie Cresta. I'm seventeen years old. I live in District Four. I work as a netter. I'm lucky that I work as a netter and not as a purifier. My mother is dead. My father hates me. I have two friends in the entire world, one of whom I don't really know any more. Today is reaping…. What?... Today is reaping. Crap.

I burst out of the water. Luckily, I haven't strayed too far from the beach and I can still stand up easily. My dark hair is immediately swept round and slaps me in the face, making me gasp as sea spray and wind almost knock me off my feet. I race up the beach, not bothering to collect my jumpsuit. I grab my net quickly: to lose that would be catastrophic. I urge my muscles faster as the storm howls behind me. It has to be almost eleven now, and not attending reapings means certain death. I scale the harbour wall quickly, gripping the stones with my fingers and toes like I have done since I was very young. I earn a few odd looks and even a few whistles as I race through town in my turquoise wetsuit. I hurriedly wrap my net around me to give me some more coverage and the whistles stop. The odd looks however…

The town square is full to bursting with people, and I have to push my way through the crowd to get to the pens at the front, where the under eighteens are standing. I squeeze in next to my friend Isabeth just as Aquamarine Calamari appears on the stage with her trademark waving curls undulating out from around her face. Me and Isabeth debated for years how Aqua got her hair to stay up and sway like that. I think its some kind of mechanical wig, while Isabeth (who's cleverer about these things) reckons it's some kind of electrical currents they pass through the hair follicles. We joke that she should live in District Three because she's good with electrics and things like that. We also thought that she must have changed her name at some point and for the last year we'd been locked into a fierce debate as to whether she realised that Calamari was a type of squid meat.

'Hello,' she says, her husky voice echoing around the square. I can see the majority of the men in the crowd looking up at her with delighted faces, 'Welcome to the 70th Hunger games. May the odds be ever,' she pauses to wink one eye seductively, 'in your favour.' There's a general sigh as she finishes and sashays over to the clear domes where the names are waiting. Me and Isabeth are going to have a great time later evaluating her dress. It's huge and looks like it's made out of some kind of dark purple gel that covers her like water. It's not completely opaque so the audience is getting quite a view. Her eyelashes have been enhanced so much that they seem to weigh down her lids, giving her a permanent sleepy look in my opinion. My friend Corill assures me that they are the height of sexiness however.

'The female tribute is…' she says, then gasps dramatically. I roll my eyes at Isabeth. Aqua does this every year, even though she doesn't know any of us, let alone by name. 'Annaelie Cresta!'

My stomach drops like lead. What. What. It can't be me. It's impossible. They must have got it wrong. I didn't even sign up for one tesserae. Careers sign up for seven at a time! They've got it wrong. Everyone watches me. I can hear Isabeth start to hyperventilate beside me and I can see my father grinning out of the corner of my eye. I feel sick. I wait. Someone will volunteer. One of the Careers will volunteer. They've been waiting for so long for this moment: they train all year. But the silence stretches on long enough for Aqua to cry 'Annaelie Cresta?' from the stage. 'Where is Annaelie?' I stare at Serena, the eighteen year old career who has been training for six years to be in the Hunger Games and boasted all season long about how she will volunteer in her last reaping cycle. She looks at me somewhat apologetically, then drops her eyes to the floor.

Then it hits me. No one is coming. No one is volunteering. I, Annie Cresta, am going to the Hunger Games.

'Annaelie Cresta!' yells Aqua one more time, starting to sound irritable. I feel someone push me forward and stumble slightly over my net. I walk in a daze towards the stage and climb the steps slowly. Aqua smiles widely at me and the crowd cheers half-heartedly. 'Wow Annaelie!' she says happily, 'Looks like you've already got your outfit for opening night sorted!' She lets out a tinkling laugh and the crowd joins in, laughing with her. I don't even smile. I'm going to the Hunger Games. I catch the eye of an old woman, with her hair tied firmly into a bun at the top of my head. She's sitting in a chair and offers me a sad little smile as I stand on the stage in my net. She's old Mags from something like the 19th Hunger Games. I glance at the boy standing beside her. He's tall, strong and so heart-achingly beautiful, it almost takes my breath away. I'd never seen Finnick Odair up close before. He looks at me with _those_ eyes, frowning slightly, as if I've confused him. I realise that they will be my mentors for the Hunger Games. They will hold my life in my hands. The thought is terrifying.

'Corill Pewtara!' cried Aqua, looking up from her paper.

Before I can help myself, I let out a small scream. Not Corill. Anyone but Corill. But there he is, strutting up to the stage slightly cockily. He glances at me but looks away quickly, waving to the crowd. Of course. I shouldn't expect him to be at all upset or unhappy at the news that he's going to the Hunger Games. He's a career, and as such this is a joyous moment for him. The fact that he may have to kill me to get to the prize hasn't factored into his mind yet. I start shaking so hard that I feel like I might fall apart. I bite down on my tongue to stop myself screaming again and I taste blood.

I turn to see Odair watching Corill with appreciation: I don't blame him. Aqua is also a lot more taken with Corill than she was with me; the crowd loves him too. He's waving, joking, flirting; it's not hard to love him, especially with his classic Four good looks: brown curly hair, blue eyes. Who wouldn't love him? While I stand on the stage: still bedraggled from my swim, shaking like a leaf. Who's going to want to sponsor me?

I manage to grasp at Corill's hand for a moment. His face contorts slightly as he looks at me and he grips harder at my hand. I feel tears choke me and my vision swims. I feel like I'm going to collapse. One of us won't survive. One of us will have to die: if not both. I open my mouth, trying to make any kind of noise. His mouth falls open too. His jaw clenches to stop his lip from trembling. Suddenly, I feel a firm arm around my waist and I'm pulled away from Corill and into the justice building.

My vision is blurred by tears as I'm pulled through the labyrinth of corridors into a place I've never been before, even in the compulsory Capitol celebrations of the Hunger Games victors. As we twist and turn deeper and deeper, the corridors get less beautiful, less richly decorated, until we're in a dingy passageway that looks like its straight out of my house. My captor wrenches open a heavy metal door and we appear in a cellar. The first thing I notice is the smell of rotten fish, which burns my nose and makes me gag a little. It's grey and dank, and so cold that I see my breath frost in front of me. I hear streams of water from over by the one source of light, a small window at the very top of the wall. The metal door clangs shut and we are plunged into almost darkness.

I'm grabbed by my arms and turned round to see who has taken me here. He shakes me hard. Finnick Odair?

'What do you think you're doing?' he hisses angrily, shaking me once more. I briefly register that most of the girls in my school would cut off their right arms to be in my position now. 'Do you want him to die?' His question shocks me. Do I want Corill to die?

'No! Of course not!' I try to say in outrage, but it comes out as more of a cracked gurgle. He squints down at me, his teal eyes conflicted and angry. They remind me of the sea, of my home. The realisation that I'll never see the sea again hits me and I let out a sob, tears overflowing. He grips my arms harder.

'What are you doing?' he asks. I don't understand why he's so confused. 'Is this your game plan? Because you very nearly had him crying up on that stage. How d'you expect him to get sponsors if he's known as 'the boy who cried at reaping'?' My stomach plummets. I hadn't thought of how my actions could affect Corill. I feel a rush of gratitude towards Finnick for getting me out of there.

'Thank you.' I say as sincerely as I can, and his eyes widen yet again.

'I don't…' he starts, shaking his head like he's got water in his ears.

'Corill is one of my best friends.' I elaborate. His face contorts slightly in pity. 'Everything up there, that was real.' He considers me carefully. I realise that he's not actually that old. He's got to be, what, nineteen? Only two years above me, and yet it seems like he's lived forever. His eyes are old, and shrewd, and experienced. What those eyes must have seen. Rumours fly like fireworks around Four about Finnick Odair and what he gets up to in the Capitol. My father always said that he was a disgrace to Four: the Capitol's whore. But then my father also thinks people should be stoned for holding hands outside marriage.

Death. Destruction. Finnick Odair must have seen plenty of both. His games were compulsory watching too of course. I remember how he viciously stabbed the career from one through the eyes with his trident and step smartly back from him. I can't reconcile the image of 'ruthless killer' with the beautiful boy standing in front of me. He smiles ruefully at my movement.

'C'mon,' he says, opening the heavy door again, then turns back: 'Don't try anything with Corill again, or I will kill you.' His face is solemn and his hands are clenched by his sides. I feel a real swoop of fear in my belly and falter backwards in terror. 'Nahh, I'm kidding,' he grins, 'seriously, you tributes get softer and softer each year.' He makes the mistake of turning and shaking his head slightly. I reach up to his neck and grab a pressure point.

'Argh-aghhh,' he says, freezing and bending down, curving his body towards my still gripping hand. He cranes round to look at me in shock.

'Some of us are tougher than you think.' I shrug, and give him a small smile. I'm caught off guard as he flicks his head round, escaping my grip and pulling me into a gentle headlock.

'Don't get too cocky now,' he breathes into my ear, a smile in his voice. A shudder runs down my neck. It isn't fear. He lets go and turns to grin at me; he reminds me of the scorpion fish that live around the reefs in the fishing hotspots. They're beautiful, but get too close and they're lethal. He whistles as he walks off up the corridor before me, hands in pockets: every inch the average nineteen-year-old. I can't help but think: this is all part of his deadly camouflage.

By the time we get back to the entrance of the Justice Building, the Mayors speech is over. Aqua is beside herself with rage as we approach, hitting out at the peacekeepers who look slightly terrified. Mags has retreated to a safe distance with Corill and is whispering in his ear rapidly. My heart sinks. Corill has obviously chosen Mags as a mentor.

'WHERE IS SHE?' Aqua screeches, 'I CAN'T HAVE LOST A TRIBUTE ALREADY! WHY DID YOU LET HER OUT OF YOUR SIGHT?' she pushes a peacekeeper back and he stumbles slightly. If any of us in Four had dared to even look at a Peacekeeper the way Aqua is now, we would be assigned twenty lashes and have our fish supply cut off for at least a week. She catches sight of me and screams. Literally, she screams.

'WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?' she yells, barrelling towards me on her tottering heels.

'I..'

'You little... You ruin my show then disappear without notifying anyone?' she's in hitting distance now and claws forward at me with her purple talons. I wince away, bringing my hands up to cover my face, but the attack never comes. I look up to see Finnick grasping her wrists.

'Listen, I can vouch for her,' he says in a velvety voice which he certainly wasn't using in the cellar. 'Don't worry Aqua, the show was great.' He winks. My eyes widen as her face relaxes into a tranquil smile. I'm startled by the power he holds over her. Are they in love, I wonder?

'Thank you, mister Odair,' she says, back to her husky tones, 'I'm glad it…' she runs her fingers around his face and down into his collar, 'Pleased you.' I watched mesmerised as her dress appears to undulate slightly, then the gel starts to inch around Finnick's form, wrapping him too in a cocoon of purple gel. But she's naked under the dress! They must be married, I realise as he kisses her quickly and withdraws, the gel reforming itself into a dress. Corill looks shocked and impressed, while Mags looks away, faintly bored. She gives me another toothless smile, rolling her eyes at Aqua and I return it whole-heartedly.

'Goodbye time!' Aqua says cheerily, clapping her hands and fanning her flushed cheeks. 'Corill, you can go in the lobby,' she turns to me with a rather forced smile, 'Annaelie in the drawing room.'

'Call me Annie,' I say sweetly and am rewarded with a flicker of anger marring her features. I'm led into a beautiful room, with a thick, blue carpet and real silk sofas. I've never sat or stood on anything so luxurious in my life. Through the crack of the door, I catch a glimpse of Aqua pulling Finnick in for another lingering kiss. I'm confused, Finnick seems to be enjoying the kiss as much as Aqua, yet when it ends and he turns to walk away, his face slackens and I see him shudder.

Someone obscures my view as they fly through the door.

'Annie!' I only have time to look up into Isabeth's tear-stained face before I'm enveloped in a tight hug. A dense weight seems to crush any distractions that the antics of Finnick Odair may have offered, as the Hunger games bloom into my mind yet again. I clutch tightly to Isabeth for dear life, soaking her hair with my tears. Isabeth tries to hush me, stroking my hair and murmuring platitudes in my ear. I finally fall quiet, withdrawing from the hug and looking at Isabeth as levelly as possible.

'Thank you for everything,' I say carefully, 'I know I won't return from these games,' she opens her mouth to argue but I hold my hand up to stop her. 'I _know _it. I can't even beat Corill for goodness sake, and you've seen the careers. I just… You're my best friend in the world and I love you.' She looks stricken and I can see tears threatening to overflow in her eyes. 'As well as all that,' I smile slightly, 'I promise to find out and let you know how Aqua's hair stays up.' She laughs through her tears, sniffing slightly.

'Well, I guess if there was ever any way to die, the best way would be with Finnick Odair watching over you,' she winks wickedly and I snort. She grins. 'You mark my words Annie, you'll fall in love with him like the rest of us!' I'm about to tell her he's married, when a burly peacekeeper steps forward.

'Times up,' he grunts, 'Next person's waiting.'

Isabeth stands up and we hug once more.

'Bye Izzy,' I say softly, 'It's been a pleasure knowing you.' She chokes a little and leaves quickly. I'm relieved. I don't think I could cope with more crying.

The door closes behind her and there's silence for a few seconds. I stare at the burly peacekeeper, trying to work out if his hair's real or not. It seems pretty average, but the dark brown contrasts a little ridiculously with his ginger eyebrows. I wonder if he had just dyed his eyebrows, but then why would anyone dye their eyebrows such a ridiculous colour. He glances at me awkwardly as I gaze at his hairline, then coughs a little. I offer him a smile and he returns it confusedly, his cheeks colouring.

The silence is suddenly broken by shouting outside the door. Me and Orange-brows, both look up at the same time. We glance at each other and then Orange-brows quickly crosses the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as he's gone, I leap up, hurrying over to the door and pressing my ear to it. I jump as I hear Isabeth's voice. She shouts something like: _YOU NEVER DESERVED HER!_ I'm confused about who she's talking about. Who didn't deserve who? I hear more people yelling from outside and then Aqua's irritated voice. Isabeth screams and I wrench open the door.

Isabeth is lying on the floor motionless, and blood is at her temple. I gasp, and Orange-brows quickly turns to me. He's restraining someone whose hands are behind his back, a man. His fist is bloody and his head bent, matted dark hair obscuring him from my view.

'What happened?' I ask, tears threatening to overflow. I run to Isabeth and turn her over. She remains very still. 'Who did this?' I snarl louder as no one answers me. Peacekeepers pull me off Isabeth and start to drag her outside, her neck lolling to one side on the carpet. Orange-brows looks at me in sympathy as she is rolled out of the main doors and left on the steps, the peace-keepers guarding the doors behind her.

'WHO DID THIS?' I scream rushing to the doors, only to be restrained by peace-keepers again. The man in Orange-brows' arms lifts his head, smiling with cracked, brown teeth. I can smell the spirits rolling off his breath. I look at my father in disgust.

'Daddy's so proud of you,' he says, his voice high and mocking. I simply stare at him for a few minutes. Then, without saying a word, I walk out of the room. Finnick tries to catch my wrists as I storm past him, but I break contact with him and barge past him into the lobby area. Corill is sitting there quietly. His next visitor must have been Isabeth, I realise, as he looks up at me in surprise. He is alone.

'Annie,' he starts, 'what are you…?' I advance on him, and crush my mouth to his. He grunts in surprise, freezing for a few seconds, then wraps his arms around me, crushing me to him as his mouth starts moving against mine with equal fervour. I expect blissful oblivion. I don't get it. The girls at school told me that your first kiss was incredible: that you forget everything around you and leave the world behind for a few minutes at least. That's what I need right now, but I don't get it. I'm still in the Justice-building. I've still just been reaped for the Hunger Games. My father has still just almost killed my best friend. Even when I'm pressed up against the wall by Corill and his hands stray to my face, my hair, my hips, my bum: I'm still right there in the moment.

'Oh for God's sake,' comes a voice from the doorway and I look over Corill's shoulder to see Finnick leaning against the doorframe, an amused expression across his face. 'Come along my little protégée,' he says rolling his eyes at me, 'unfortunately, those kinds of tactics won't serve to distract every tribute.' I glance at Corill. He looks confused and suspicious and I suddenly feel terrible. Finnick was right: I do seem to be going out of my way to hurt Corill. _I'm sorry _I mouth to him and he glares back.

'Annaelie!' Finnick is growing impatient. I detach myself from Corill and follow after Finnick. He leads me out the back of the Justice Building to where a large, gleaming train is waiting. I climb onto the train miserably, barely noticing when Finnick kisses the train attendant. Barely. I wonder if Aqua minds it when he kisses other people. I know I would. We walk to the bedroom section of the carriage in silence but when Finnick opens the door I can't help but gasp. He grins at my reaction.

'Get changed you,' he says, glancing down at my sparkly wetsuit, 'I want to discuss tactics before dinner.' He leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. My bedroom is one hundred times more magnificent that my one at home. I wriggle my bare toes in the thick carpet and marvel at my large bed. There's even a fish tank containing multicoloured tangs and angel fish. I spot a garish scorpion fish camouflaged on one of the plastic rocks and shudder as I remember Finnick. The bathroom is a revelation too, with shining turquoise tiles and a bath the size of our kitchen. I hop in the shower however, hoping that there will be some kind of jet setting which I can use to remove my wetsuit.

I am immediately confronted by a large screen with different options upon it. I touch JET and immediately, hot water sprays out with the force of a geyser, dissolving and washing my wetsuit down the drain. It stops after ten seconds and I stand, steaming and shocked, in the cubicle. The screen starts to beep, urging me to select shampoo and conditioner. I reach forward cautiously and select SEASIDE from the list of scents, hoping it will keep me smelling of home. I close my eyes just in time before I am splattered, head to foot in a viscous, yellow goo. I quickly rub it into my hair, then stretch out blindly to the panel. Unfortunately I select JET again in my blindness and am treated to another boiling hot stream. I smell nothing like the seaside. In fact, I smell more like some kind of meadow. I am urged to choose a soap and carefully select Salt which seems innocent enough. Crystals rain down on me instantly and close in on my body like some kind of suit. I am frozen to the spot as the crystals harden and begin to sting my skin. They feel like they are removing it, not cleaning it. I cry out as the suit doesn't melt and try to move myself. I shuffle forward slightly, then slip over, protected from the floor by my salt-suit.

I lie there for a few minutes, making pitiful noises on the floor. I wonder why the shower isn't switching on again, then realise it is probably powered by motion sensors, like a lot of things in the Capitol. It isn't going to work unless I stand up , and I can't stand up without the shower working and dissolving the salt. I groan loudly as I realise that I have to wait until someone comes and finds me. Luckily, a few seconds later someone knocks at my door.

'Annaelie!' Great. Finnick Odair. Of all people. I keep extremely quiet, hoping he will go away. Unfortunately he doesn't get the hint. 'Open the bloody door,' he shouts irritably, 'or I'm coming in anyway. I was under the impression that you wanted to get out of the games alive.' I make an odd sort of screeching noise, hoping that he will construe it as a warning not to come in.

'Have you got some kind of bird in there with you?' he asks sarcastically, 'You did a good job hiding that on the way in.' There's another short silence, then I hear the door handle click open. Oh bloody hell. I hear him looking around the bedroom, then he enters the bathroom.

'What the..?' I hear him mutter, then his head comes into view as he looks down on me. I'm aware that the translucent salt doesn't provide nearly enough protection from his confused eyes. He looks me up and down, and then begins to laugh. He laughs long and so hard that tears begin to run down his cheeks and he has to clutch the shower door for support. The part of me that isn't busy being the most embarrassed that I have ever been, admires the sound of his laughter. It's like his voice, only somewhat more beautiful. I'm afraid he's going to start hyperventilating as he carries on laughing for what feels like an hour. I try to make some kind of noise, in the hope that it will persuade him to take pity on me, but all that comes out of my mouth is a kind of grunt, that makes him gasp with mirth and laugh even harder. After what feels like hours he finally decides to help and scoops an arm underneath my rigid back, setting me straight again. I feel the warmth of his hand on my back through the salt and shiver slightly.

He presses JET on the water panel and the salt is blasted off me, leaving me soaking wet and gasping again. Finnick still hasn't controlled his hilarity and the sight of my mouth opened in a shocked O shape, makes him collapse with laughter again.

'When you're quite finished,' I say irritably, hands on my hips. He tries to straighten his face, then looks me up and down, the laughter dying in his throat and his eyebrows raising somewhat. It's only then that I realise the enormity of the situation. I'm in a shower. With Finnick Odair. And I'm absolutely naked. I gasp and grab for a towel, wrapping it firmly around my salty body. He rolls his eyes.

'Not wanting to be naked around Finnick Odair, that's a new one,' he mutters bitterly leaning past me and flicking a few buttons on the shower, causing it to power down.

'What?' I say sharply. He looks into my face, then sighs and turns away.

'You know, I think that you might be the only person who has _ever _managed to outwit one of the Capitol's showers.' The laughter is back in his voice and I'm glad. He frightens me when he talks bluntly, like the mask has slipped. 'Those things are specially designed to work completely to the user's needs: I think you're the first person to ever have a bad experience in one.' He snickers. I follow him into my bedroom and sit down on the bed, watching him rifle through the drawers in the dresser.

'What did you mean?' I ask abruptly. He doesn't say anything, but wrenches open the second drawer down. 'About the naked thing?' I'm not sure I want to know the answer. He freezes and I see the muscles in his neck tighten and shudder slightly.

'You know what I meant.' His voice is curt.

'You mean you have made love to other tributes?' The thought makes me feel slightly sick. He laughs hollowly.

'No. Never have I done that.' He turns around and throws some underwear in my direction. 'Put them on,' he says, 'I doubt you can pull off sexy but we can always try.' I stare down at the underwear, and blush fiercely. I've never seen anything with so many holes.

'Then why were they naked?' I press on, bunching the underwear in my fist, vowing to burn it the second he leaves.

'Because they wanted to be,' he says with the shadow of a smile. 'I don't know if you've realised, but I'm a sex god.' He pouts slightly and pulls a pose. I simply stare at him and he rolls his eyes. 'Seducing Finnick Odair is usually first on their list. You remember Loren from last year?' My eyes widen and he nods, his mouth quirking into an odd sort of smile. He turns back to the drawers. Of course I remember Loren: she was two years above me at school. I remember her being quiet though, and shy. I can't imagine her stripping naked for Finnick Odair.

'Doesn't your wife mind?' I ask in awe, staring at the back of his head.

'My what?' he says, turning to me with an incredulous smile on his face.

'Your wife, Aqua,' He begins to laugh again, like he did in the bathroom. This time, I catch a proper look at his face. It seems lit up from the inside, his cheeks and eyes crinkling with delight. It's so beautiful it makes me want to cry. In that moment, I see what every girl at my school sees. It makes me feel sad. Maybe he isn't a scorpion after all. Maybe he's a mutt. An Angel fish, who has been mutated by the games so much that he's barely recognisable. In that moment, I stop fearing him.

'My wife?' he says, still chuckling, 'Aqua's not my wife.'

'She isn't?' I'm confused, 'But you kissed her, and she made her dress go around you, and then she kissed you again.'

'D'you really think she would have been so lenient on you if I hadn't done those things?' he asks, shaking his head in amusement.

'She's in love with you.' I state firmly: I know I'm right on this count.

'Nah she isn't,' he says, so casually it shocks me, 'She's in lust with me: like most of the Capitol's female population.' He shrugs.

'How do you do it?' I ask in awe, 'How do you make them fall in love with you?' Already, my mind is speeding. Maybe I can make the Capitol fall in love with me. I remember watching Finnick's games: he wanted for nothing. He had over three hundred sponsors, all of whom had sent him gifts to keep him alive. Maybe if I could make people fall in love with me, I might be able to survive the games.

'Cottoned on have we?' he asks, looking at me shrewdly. 'It's a combination of raw materials and practice.' He gestures to his body and this time it's me who rolls my eyes a little. He catches it instantly. 'What, you don't find this sexehhh?' he says, pulling the ugliest sex-face I've ever seen.

'For someone who makes everyday look incredible, you sure make sexy look repulsive,' I retort and he clutches his heart in mock misery.

'I don't think we can make the sexy thing work for you though,' he says, his face quickly flicking back to serious, 'You're not charming enough.' It shouldn't do, but this smarts a little. I know I've never been the most popular person, but when it comes out of Finnick Odair's mouth, it really drives the point home.

'If you can charm people and make them fall in love with you so easily, then why hasn't it worked on me?' I ask testily, ruining the effect slightly by losing myself in his sea-green eyes.

'Because I never tried,' he shrugs.

'Why?' I ask before I can stop myself. He smirks at me and then turns back to the drawers.

'Because, first I was too angry with you,' I wince, remembering him shaking me. A flash of guilt follows as I remember Corill. 'Then, I thought that maybe you had a chance,' he continues, 'at winning I mean. You have to have a clear head to do that. I'm somewhat… intoxicating.' I can hear the laughter in his voice and I'm about to retort when I realise what he's just said. He thinks I could win. Finnick Odair thinks I might have a chance of returning to Four. I want to hug him, but I sense that he wouldn't appreciate it.

'You couldn't have made me fall in love with you anyway,' I say scathingly instead. He freezes for a moment, then turns to me. The first thing I notice are his eyes. If they were striking before, it's nothing to how they look now. They seem darker somehow, a churning sea of green. Heart-stopping. They seem to beam out of his face and see right through me. He glares at me and I see a dominating emotion in those eyes: hunger. It makes my stomach twist and warmth flood through me and I feel myself blush. He uncurls his body slowly and stretches up, drawing my eyes to the hard muscles beneath his skin. I catch a glimpse of his stomach and I gulp slightly. He walks towards me, lifting his hand and reaching out to touch my face. His fingertips burn, and I try to remember that this is all put on, that he is trying to make me feel this way. He parts his lips slightly and wets them a little with his tongue: I have to bite my lip to make sure I don't make a sound.

'Annaelie,' he murmurs in that velvet voice of his, and then because he's so close, and I can feel the heat from his chest, and I can smell salt on his breath, and there's so much longing in his voice: I lean forward to kiss him. He steps smartly backwards, grinning and taking a flamboyant bow. I would be embarrassed if I wasn't so impressed.

'How?' I ask, dumbstruck, '…How?' He chuckles a little at my reaction.

'Guess it's just my animal magnetism,' he sighs, 'It's a burden sometimes.' He walks away wiggling his butt.

'Life must be so easy for you,' I say wistfully. He halts.

'You'd think that wouldn't you,' he says, the bitterness back in his voice. I don't know what I've said wrong so I stay quiet for a couple of seconds. 'There!' he says triumphantly, pulling out what looks like a silk dressing gown out of a drawer.

'Thanks,' I say gratefully, taking it from him and putting it on over my towel.

'Hey hey hey hey!' he says snatching it back. 'Don't put it on now, it'll be wet for dinner!' I stare at him for a couple of seconds.

'I'm wearing _that_ for dinner? It's a bathrobe!'

'_Silk_ bathrobe,' he corrects. 'We're going to make you subtle and mysterious.' He looks gleeful, as if he's made a great discovery.

'But I'm not subtle or mysterious.' I say bluntly.

'Subtle, maybe not,' he amends a smile flickering across his face. I know he's thinking about the bathroom incident, 'but mysterious, I think we can work with. I sure as hell can't figure you out.'

'What's there to figure out?' I mutter, as I go into the bathroom with my handpicked clothes and shut the door.

'Well,' Finnick's voice comes from the other side of the wood, 'When I first met you, you were on the verge of a mental breakdown, wearing a sparkly wetsuit and a fishing net; you thanked me for casually assaulting you in a cellar; you preceded to attack me, your mentor; you were looking significantly at that peace-keeper with the weird eyebrows; you sexually assaulted the other tribute; managed to break an unbreakable shower; proclaimed my marriage to Aqua; congratulated me on charming and then rejecting you; disapproved of a glorious silk bathrobe, the list goes on and on!' In spite of myself, I laughed a little.

'I see what you mean about the bathrobe,' I say, 'It does make me look mysterious and subtle,' I wrench open the door, 'If mysterious and subtle are synonyms for hooker.' He winces as he looks me up and down.

'I see your point,' he says hastening over to the dresser again, 'I tried for sexy and mysterious, that would be hard for even me to pull off in that bathrobe.'

'You definitely couldn't pull that off in this bathrobe. I think it's impossible,' I say sadly. He scoffs loudly, muttering something that sounds like 'Challenge'.

'Here,' he says, throwing me a pair of loose trousers and a shirt, typical of semi-formal events in Four. 'I think we've learned an important lesson here today Annaelie, leave the styling to the stylists, and never leave you alone with Capitol technology.'

'Agreed,' I say fervently, 'but my name is Annie, not Annaelie.' I offer him a smile which he returns.

'Annie suits you more,' he says smoothing back my hair off my forehead, 'but Annaelie sounds,' he brings his mouth close to my ear, 'more mysterious.' I shudder slightly and he grins again.

'Quit doing that,' I say gruffly, shoving him away from me.

'Go down to dinner,' he says rolling his eyes, 'I'll be there in a minute.'

**Go ahead and review! You know you want to… ;)**


	2. The Shower

**Hello! OMGWOW, I'm surprised and honoured about the amount of positive feedback I've received for this! Here is the next chapter: I haven't really got a plan for this yet so I'm just going with the flow :')**

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I run my hand along the wall in the passage as I make my way to the dining car. They are carpeted. Carpeted walls! I've never seen anything so extravagant in my life. I'm still there stroking them when Aqua walks past. She glances at me, then grabs hold of my shirt, pulling me along with her.

'Dinner started ten minutes ago,' she hisses at me, 'You're late.' I stare up at her. Surely she realises that if I'm late then she is even later. 'Finnick's not around to cover for you now, _get in there.'_ She shoves me towards the oak door. It has stained glass inlaid, depicting President Snow's blood red mansion. It reminds me of the boiled sweets that they always used to hand out during the Victor Tour. I pause, my hand on the golden doorknob.

'Aren't you coming too?' I ask turning to Aqua, who has retreated a little way down the corridor and is smoothing her gel dress down so it ripples in little waves to her toes. I look down at my feet and realise I'm still not wearing any shoes. I feel a sudden urge to laugh.

'Yes, yes,' she says briskly, looking at my feet in disapproval, 'I'll be there in a second.' I shrug and pull the door open. I've never seen so much food in my life. The table seems to be groaning under it. There are the familiar dishes: fish of every colour: cod, haddock, perch, carp; even a gleaming whole swordfish in the centre of the table. It's rare that we catch swordfish and when we do, they are immediately taken to the Capitol. We are allowed to keep excess pilchards and mackerel from our gathering but that's only for very special occasions.

There is also a large pile of flatbreads, similar to the ones we have at home. However, whereas the ones we have on a daily basis are coarse and still contain the kernels, these are soft and white, like they've fallen out of clouds or something.

Other things I've never seen before. There's a huge haunch of some kind of pink meat and a plate with odd types of flowers on them. They're a vivid green and look poisonous. There's also a huge bowl of a quivering something that is bright yellow. I stare at it, entranced as it seems to vibrate with no prompting from its surroundings.

I go to sit down next to Corill but the look he shoots me is so venomous that I recoil and cross to the other side of the table to sit next to Mags. I will need to talk to him at some point. I thought that he would understand: the kiss was to forget. It wasn't a tactic as Finnick had suggested; that was obviously what Corill was thinking now. I resist the urge to bury my head in my hands in the middle of dinner: I can't believe I've made such a mess of things on my first day. I chuckle darkly under my breath as I realise I have just referred to it as 'my first day'. Like it's a new job or something. I feel like crying again as I realise that my 'first day' will be one of my last. In a month or so, I will be dead.

I feel a bony hand grip one of my knees and jump violently. I turn to see Mags smiling toothlessly at me. I reach under the table and grab her hand in return, using it to anchor me to the moment, trying desperately to ignore the prickling behind my eyes.

'It doesn't do to dwell on it dear,' she murmurs sympathetically in a heavy West-Four accent. I smile weakly back, then release her hand. Corill stares down at his plate which is piled high with the strange pink meat I saw before. 'Bacon,' says Mags, who sees me looking, 'I was just telling Corill here, it's one of the delicacies in the Capitol. It comes from pigs you know, from district ten. They make the peanuts.' Her voice becomes vague and she reaches for a large bowl of monkey nuts, trying to split one open by hitting it hard with a spoon. The nut flips out from under the silver however and hits a large vase which wobbles precariously. I catch Corill's eye and for a moment we're both on the edge of laughter. His gaze turns cold however and he looks away.

I assume that we have started and reach forward for the bowl of yellow. It quivers as I poke it with the end of my fork. I dig my fork in but the stuff just slips right through the prongs, leaving it empty again. I try it a few more times but still I am left with nothing.

'Jell-O,' says Mags knowledgeably, 'You need a straw.' She grabs one and holds it aloft, about to plunge it into the large yellow bowl when there's a loud bang as the door flies open and Aqua breezes in.

'Sorry!' She says airily, 'just washing my hair and lost track of time!' I almost choke on my bacon and she glares at me. She seats herself at the head of the table and reaches for a portion of sushi that would barely fill my palm. 'Have you seen Finnick anywhere Margaret?' she asks, switching her gaze to Mags. Everything clicks into place in my head. She had been skulking outside in the corridors looking for Finnick. No wonder she wasn't very happy when I disturbed her with my wall stroking antics. I hide my smile in my glass of water, revelling in the irritated look on Aqua's face. He'd managed to avoid her then.

Her question is answered for her however as Finnick bursts in, wearing nothing but the tiny silk bathrobe. I really do choke this time, and Mags thumps me hard on the back.

'Oh Finnick,' she says grinning at him, 'did you lose a bet again?' He strikes a pose and flicks his reddish hair from his eyes.

'It was more of a challenge,' he says happily, before flicking his eyes to me. 'So?' he says expectantly, 'Do I pull this off or what?'

'I'd say you do,' says a voice before I have a chance to answer and I'm not surprised to find it is Aqua's. She has switched her irritated voice back to the husky one she had used at the reapings. Corill is looking excited again. The annoying this is, she's right. Finnick, using some kind of magic, looks kind of good in the bathrobe. The word sexy bounces around my mind but I refuse to acknowledge it, even in my thoughts.

'I'm sticking to my previous answer,' I say hoping to come out superior, but my voice cracks halfway through. Corill turns to stare at me. Apparently, his and Mags' training session did not consist of bets as to who would look the best in silk. My mind is assaulted by an image of Mags in the bathrobe and I quickly turn back to my bacon. It's meaty and more substantial than anything I've ever had at home, but also salty and comforting.

Finnick sits down and engages Corill in a conversation about career life. I wonder why Finnick is so interested, then remember that however much he acted like one in the games, Finnick was not a career: merely a netter from west-Four, like me. I take another sip of water and find it to be disgusting. Its clean and sweeter that anything I've ever had, but bitter too. It's purified. I can see the haggard faces of my friends who are purifiers in the reflection of the glass. They work in sweltering factories all day, without breaks or food or water: constantly taunted by the massive vats of clean, boiling water that they work around. They come home exhausted, their lips and hands and eyes caked with dried salt. The average purifier will not reach their 22nd birthday without becoming blind. Some, made delirious by dehydration, give into temptation and try to drink the boiling water, not caring that their hands and face a scalded so badly. They often fall in, but the machines do not stop. They are boiled to death.

I shudder and reach over to grab the pot of white grains that I recognise as refined salt. I pour some into my water and stir it gently using my knife. When the salt is dissolved, I take a sip and feel warmth flood through me. Home. I catch Finnick staring at me and expect him to laugh or make a cutting comment, but he doesn't. He merely holds his hand out for the salt and fills his drink too. He passes the salt to Corill afterwards who hesitates, but then also adds some to his water. Finally, Mags does the same. I see Corill smile as he tastes the water and feel tears threaten to overflow as I take another sip of mine. Mags smacks her lips as she downs her glass and Finnick is once again transformed: his face looks peaceful, and suddenly, it's easy to believe that he's 19.

'That's disgusting,' says Aqua, looking around at us all incredulously. I see the peacekeepers out the corner of my eye growing restless, but I am confused as to why. I see Finnick glance at them too and he starts a conversation with Mags about when the other reapings will be shown on television. Orange-brows mutters something to a particularly agitated peacekeeper with an extremely large neck. Large-neck calms down slightly, but gives me a long, hard glare. I feel uncomfortable, and suddenly regret not hiding the fact that I was adding salt to the Capitol's purified water.

Dinner continues in much the same way as before but it feels different. Aqua's brain seems to have been set to 'flirt' while Finnick's around. The slight jolting of the train along the tracks seems to be affecting her a lot more that the rest of us, even going so far as to propel her right onto Finnick's lap at one point. Due to 'Changes of Momentum' it is unfortunately impossible for poor Aqua to get off Finnick until the thick forests of district seven forced the train to slow down so much that even Aqua can't pretend that the movement is affecting her balance.

Corill seems to find it very amusing and it certainly distracts the Peacekeepers, who have obviously seen this kind of action before, but I can't help but feel uneasy. A flash of red catches my eye, and for the first time, I notice the camera mounted on the wall. I stare at it for a long time, wondering who is watching…

'Annie?' My head shoots down as I hear my name. Finnick is watching me with a teasing face, but his eyes are hard. I think he's trying to tell me something, but I've no idea what that might be. 'Sugar cube?'

I can tell by the people watching me that this is an important question. Silence has fallen over the table, except for Aqua who is cursing quietly, looking for more of the pink liquid of which she had been consuming copious amounts. The peacekeepers are watching somewhat agitatedly, and glancing up at the camera. Something intangible but none-the-less important. I search Finnick's face for the answer.

'Yes?' My voice turns up in a tentative question at the end, but I immediately feel the room relax. This time, Finnick's smile is genuine as he offers me the bowl. I take one and resist the urge to laugh in pleasure as the sweetness explodes over my tongue. I've never tasted anything so sweet.

I plan to ask Finnick after dinner what all of this means, but as it turns out, I don't need to. As soon as the last dish has been taken away, Finnick announces that we have to discuss tactics, and frogmarches me out of the dining car to the intense displeasure of Aqua who glares at me with fire in her eyes.

I catch a glimpse of giant mountains and endless forest as we pass the window and guess that we still haven't left Seven yet. Our journey will take us on a roundabout route of the districts due to our odd position in Panem: on the coast, fairly far away from the Capitol. According to our Geography and history teachers in school, Four used to be much closer to the Capitol, closer than Three even. The small district coast was so overfished however, that the water became irrevocably polluted. The entire district was uprooted by the Capitol and moved further east to the bountiful coast there. It was more dangerous, due to the air currents which caused super-typhoons every six months or so, but as long as the Capitol got its seafood…

As far as the Capitol is concerned however, we're still in their pocket, prompting the gifts they sometimes lavish on us and the Career district status. The amount of food we produce for the Capitol (the only upside to the super-typhoons is the amount of deep water fish like tuna and swordfish that they bring into the shallows) keeps us a fairly rich district. My family is the lowest of the low, but we've always had clothes to wear and food to eat, even if it is just the slump from the fish harvest for that day: heads and tails, that sort of thing.

I'm pulled out of my reverie by a door slamming and realise that I'm back in my bedroom. Finnick looks around sharply. Apparently, he doesn't find what he's looking for because he sighs in exasperation and pulls me by the forearm into the bathroom. Again the looking and the sighing (this time he looks a little incredulous) and the pulling me into a smaller space: the shower cubicle to be exact. I stare as him as he looks around again. This time he doesn't sigh.

'What…' I start, but suddenly his warm hand is clasped around my mouth, his breath hot in my ear. I feel the heat from it sink into my bones, and flare in my belly. I frown at myself impatiently, wondering if everyone reacts to him in this way.

'Be quiet,' he breathes, making me shudder a little again. When he's sure I'm not going to start talking again, he releases me, stepping quickly over to the shower panel and pressing RINSE. I gasp as warm water rains down upon me, soaking through my clothes and drenching my hair.

'What are you doing?' I hiss, completely nonplussed by his odd behaviour. Finnick's face is not teasing or friendly. It is hard as rock, his eyes a dark, angry green.

'What are you playing at Annaelie?' he says in a low, tightly controlled voice. I register the use of my full name and know I'm in trouble. I stare at him indignantly, wondering what I could have possibly done this time. I'm also slightly annoyed, that I didn't think to press the rinse button on the shower. This light, rain of droplets is much more pleasant than the steaming hot hosing I was treated to earlier.

'What are _you_ playing at?' I hiss back angrily. He looks back at me, his eyes slightly scornful now.

'Alright, I get it,' he says, in a voice that's much too sarcastic for my liking, 'You're new to this, but surely you have some shred of self-preservation! I mean salt in the water was fair enough, I saw the point you were making there. But staring at a camera? After the _last Hunger Games_?'

And finally, I get it. I understand all of it. The cameras, the sugar cube, the looking, the sighing, the shower water, the incredulity… Suddenly, my face too is incredulous, not to mention more than a little indignant.

'They put a camera in my bathroom?' I hiss at him angrily and he rolls his eyes, but quirks his lip up a little. He's glad I've cottoned on. Because this isn't really about the cameras at all: it's about the Capitol. And rebellion.

Last year, the Hunger games lasted much longer than usual. Usually they were over in a few weeks at most, but this one went on for two months. Two alliances were built up: the usual Career ones, and a smaller one, consisting of the two Three tributes, the girl, Fiona from Seven and the boy, Ardal from Five. The Career pack was big that year and the first few weeks were entertaining enough for the Capitol watching the weaker Careers turn on each other and hunting down the other tributes from the districts. Meanwhile, the Threes, Fiona and Ardal were hiking towards some hills out in the far reaches of the arena, too far away for the hardcore of the Career pack that remained to catch them or even notice them.

In those few weeks where only the two alliances remained, the Careers slowly turned on each other, fighting over food and supplies, finally dying out all together when the last Career was killed by his dying companion. Shockingly, the other alliance seemed to have set up a permanent camp in the hills. They even started to farm the land, Ardal and the boy from Three ploughing a flat piece of earth with branches, while Fiona and the girl gathered seeds and managed to capture one of the ponies that roamed the hills.

They set up a pen, keeping the horses in there, killing them when they needed meat, or training them so that they were able to ride further out to gather seeds. The group seemed unperturbed that they were the only ones left, ignoring the death announcements. Fiona and Ardal by this time had struck up a relationship and seemed very much in love. They even did the act in a woodland glade one day. It was not the first time that this had happened, but it was by far the most anticipated. There had apparently been a huge party in the Capitol when it finally happened.

All of this kept the Capitol people entertained for almost a month. The complete alliance between the tributes, the fact that no one was killing each other, the farm, whether they thought they could stay in the arena for ever, the relationship between Fiona and Ardal. Soon, however, they got bored.

The Gamemakers sent an acid storm that destroyed all the crops that they had carefully grown and killed the ponies, along with most of the animals and vegetation around them. Ardal and the boy from Three managed to shelter in a rocky crevice near where they were collecting fruit for the day, but the girls were too slow. They melted before the boys' very eyes. They had been the most gruesome deaths in a while. Fiona was still screaming as her jaw fell away from her face, the rain melting the joints first. Ardal's face had been heartbreaking…and terrifying.

Ardal and Three had managed to start a fire with the remaining scrub bushes, but they didn't cook anything on it. They held a vigil for the girls all through the night, looking up into the sparkling Capitol cameras, their expressions unforgiving. Three disappeared into the cave the next day, blocking the entrance with a large boulder that Ardal helped him move. He managed to short out the camera that was mounted inside the cave, so no one could see what he was doing.

The Gamemakers were at a loss for what to do. They couldn't kill him because the cave was strong and nothing could get through it. They couldn't stop the games. When Ardal also disappeared into the cave, something had to be done. The trackers told the Gamemakers that they were alive, but that was it.

A hovercam was sent down. Usually these weren't used because they were expensive and the risk of them getting damaged was too great. They decided it was worth the risk. They had sent it down in the evening, when live streaming was shown, their big mistake. Ardal had pounced on the camera as soon as it had managed to drill its way into the cave. Three had managed to use the camera light without turning on the camera.

Deliberately in front of the camera, Ardal, looking half-crazed had slashed his own arm open, the blood bursting out. He had taken the blood and written slowly, carefully along the wall. 'TONIGHT CAPITOL, THEY LIE WITH YOU. WE WILL NOT STOP UNTIL ALL OF YOU LIE WITH THEM.' Then, he had died, His blood covering the cave, splattered on the screen of the hovercam. Before Three had a chance to do anything, the cave was mined and his broken, barely alive body was pulled out by the hovercraft.

The Capitol's attempt to stop the live stream backfired, freezing the screen on the bloody words, daubed on the cave wall. It caused panic in the city. The citizens were informed that sadly, Three was too badly affected by starvation for them to save and had died during medical treatment. Everyone knew that this was a lie. The Capitol had fixed a lot worse than Three's wounds. The interviews were cancelled, the Gamemakers were apparently executed and the games were not mentioned. Slowly, the Capitol forgot.

Well, the people forgot. Apparently, President Snow and the Peacekeepers hadn't. I realise that once again, I owe Finnick Odair an awful lot. I was caught staring at a camera. After what happened in the last games, no wonder the Peacekeepers were touchy about it. This could be seen as an act of open rebellion. A copycat stunt maybe. Finnick's sugar cube had saved me more than I could know. Something so basically Capitol as a sugar cube was the perfect antidote to my rebellious actions.

I still couldn't believe they put a camera in my bathroom though.

'Thank you,' I say fervently for the second time that day, 'I'm sorry I just, didn't think.' I feel myself blushing. It was such a stupid thing to do. Finnick frowns at me. I think that I confused him again. I smile ruefully.

'Good thinking with the cameras,' I say, gesturing to the shower, 'the water, so they couldn't pick up sound: clever.' He smirks a little.

'Just call me Mr. Incredible,' he says, winking roguishly. I roll my eyes.

'It suits you,' I say, in an imitation of his low, seductive tones from earlier. I reach upwards, trailing my fingers up his cheek and flipping his sopping hair, darkened by water out of his face. I lean towards him until I can feel his breath on my face. 'But Finnick is more,' I lower my voice to a whisper, my hand lingering on the back of his head 'mysterious.'

He is unfortunately, not nearly as affected as I was. He chuckles, deep in his throat and his hand reaches behind him. Suddenly the water is gone and a foggy silence fills the cubicle as steam clouds billow. 'No teaching the teacher,' he says, his fingers closing around mine at the back of his head. He ducks out of my grip and suddenly he is serious.

'You're smart Annie,' he says, and my stomach leaps a little at the return to my nickname. I glare at it. 'But if you're going to survive the games you have to be alert every single second. Never take you're eyes away from that goal. If you do, even for a moment, you're finished.' I look into those beautiful green eyes. They seem almost hopeful: like he truly believes in me. I feel a rush of affection towards him.

'So,' I start, humour in my voice, 'you're telling me to never take my eyes away from the goal, when you're standing there in a WET, silk dressing gown?' I begin to laugh as he looks down at himself in surprise, his eyes widening as he glances across his scantily clad body. I laugh harder as he looks up at me, his cheeks coloured a little. 'Have I managed to make Finnick Odair, heartthrob of the Capitol, man with no comprehension of the words 'personal space' blush?' I ask, unable to stop myself collapsing in laughter again. By this time, he has started to laugh too.

'Well, you've been getting hot for me all day,' he says through chuckles, 'it's only fair for me to give you a little back in return.' He throws a friendly arm around my shoulder and we skid our way to the entrance of the shower.

As we make our way through the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of the camera which I now know to be mounted over my sink. I had got changed in the bathroom. It makes me feel slightly sick to know that whoever monitors those cameras now knows my body more intimately than anyone on earth excepting myself. It feels violating. I can't believe that I didn't look for it before.

'Don't worry,' a quiet voice makes me jump a little, 'you get used to it,' says Finnick, letting go of me and brushing past a little brusquely into the bedroom.

'Mystery girl's getting easier to understand huh?' I say in a brittle voice. The fact that he can see right through me makes me feel vulnerable and I don't like it. It's like my safety blankets been whipped away. He turns to me, his eyes wide. He stares into my face for a moment, and I wish I knew what he's thinking. I am apparently an effortless mystery. He works at it, and makes it look easy.

'If that were true,' he says in an impassive voice, shrugging in a perfect imitation of nonchalance, 'you wouldn't be nearly so dangerous.'

'What do you mean?' I say sharply, staring at him. He hesitates.

'I like a mystery,' he says finally, and there's something in his voice which is so sad, that I feel my stomach sink, even though I don't truly understand what he means. He grins and the spell is broken, the mask is back up.

'Come along then Annie,' he says, waving his hands towards the door, 'Let's go watch the reapings of your fellow arena playmates. If we're in luck, the boys will all be straight and the girls will all be gay. That way, the tactic you were employing on Corill might just help you win this thing!' I want to say something to him: to ask him about… well I don't really know what it was, but something stops me. I close my mouth like a goldfish and force my lips upwards in a smile.

'Sounds good,' I say my voice slightly thicker than usual. I dash out of the room and past Finnick, and all the way to the dining car, this time not stopping at the carpeted walls. I can feel my eyes start to sting and gulp repeatedly, getting myself under control.

The table has been cleared and is shining in the low light, cast by the light bulbs which are flickering atmospherically, no doubt another Capitol invention, to simulate fire or a lantern I suppose. The sky outside the windows is now dark and I can only make out dark, hulking shapes as the train rattles past. They're bringing in a newer train model next year I hear, but for now, we are stuck with a plain, old fish transportation train, albeit with every luxury known to man inside. Our journey will take three days. It's scary to think that in two days, we will be pulling up at the Capitol. Will this be the last time I see these views out of the window?

'Annie?' I hear Finnick's voice from a little way away and hurry over to a door at the end of the car. I don't want to see him right now. I want to pretend.

I enter another car. It's darkened and filled with people, all whom turn to me quickly as I open the door, before turning back to the only source of light in the room: a television that at the moment, is showing the Capitol seal, and playing the anthem. I take the empty seat next to Mags who grins toothlessly at me and takes my hand in her wrinkled one. I squeeze it as Claudius Templesmith appears on the screen, his trademark wide, fluorescent white smile dominating the scene. Some people say it can glow in the dark. I don't doubt it.

Isabeth always says that the Capitol fashions scare her: the strange hair, the multicoloured skin, the unnaturalness of all the implants and enhancements made them look alien. I was always fascinated by it all. Claudius looks so _funny _with his bright teeth, like he is permanently shocked with what was going on around him.

I hear Finnick coming in but don't look round, focusing very hard on the spinning Capitol seal. Luckily, he doesn't try to talk to me but sits down next to Corill without so much as a glance in my direction. He ruffles Corill's hair slightly, grinning down at him in a fatherly way, even though there can't be more than a year's difference in their ages. I feel slightly put out by this. Finnick is _my_ mentor after all, not Corill's. I snort quietly to myself. I sound like a spoiled brat. I don't _own_ Finnick. He's at perfect liberty to ruffle whoever's hair he likes.

Suddenly, I'm assaulted by the image of Finnick ruffling my hair, but very different circumstances. I feel myself blush bright red, thanking the gods that the car is dark. I can't believe that I'm truly thinking like this. Okay, when Finnick is all up close and personal and I can see his prettiness, that's understandable, but when it's just me daydreaming…

I shake my head roughly to try and get rid of the images as Caesar and his female counterpart Sorenne start analysing the district tributes. There's the usual clamour in One, as at least seven people volunteer in the place of a huge boy, who looks like he's about to rip the throat out of every single person who gets their name re-entered in the large glass ball. The name 'Brick' is pulled out of the ball the second time and an identical huge boy takes the place of the first one. I snort a little as his name is announced and he smiles producing an actual brick from his pocket.

'My mascot!' he explains, to the apparently mystified Capitol official. Brick suddenly roars, raising his mascot above his head, and for a moment it looks like he's going to launch it into the crowd. The image cuts back to Claudius and Sorenne as the Capitol official turns to the camera, panic etched comically across his features. The two of them sit with slightly fixed smiles for a few seconds, before the video feed from One appears again.

Brick is now standing slightly abashed on one side of the stage as the poor Capitol official plucks a name out of the girls' ball. Ruby ascends the steps in blonde sparkling glory, her crimson tunic glimmering subtly in the sunshine. She has been trained for this, you can tell. Aside from looking slightly alarmed when she is made to stand beside Brick, her face doesn't slip once as she gazes graciously out at the crowd. I catch Finnick's eye and have to actively stop myself from laughing. Two careers from One then. Corill notes them down carefully.

The same drill is repeated in Two, with the same clamouring to be the volunteer that gets to go. In the end, it's not nearly as exciting as One. The boy picked looks slightly more deadly than Brick. Well-built, but in a streamlined sort of way, he introduced simply as G. I decide to add two e's on the end of his name to make him slightly less intimidating and smile as he slicks back his oily, dark hair. The girl is very different from Ruby. Where Ruby was slender and looked agile, Cora is huge and looks like she could break through a wall with her forehead. She smiles wickedly as she makes her way up to the stage, cracking her knuckles. I decide that I'd better watch out for Two. Gee and Cora look like they're not about to mess around.

I glance at Finnick who is watching the television with an impassive expression. Did he really think that I could beat all of this lot? Claudius and Sorenne are certainly excited about their chances, skating over Brick's misdemeanour to exclaim over his muscles, wonder over Cora's brutal expression.

'It's going to be a messy one this year!' says Claudius gleefully at one point and I grip tightly to Mags' hand. The only way that I could possibly beat this lot, would be if I ran so far away from them that they didn't catch me or forgot about me.

'The first two are always the worst dear,' says Mags gently, and she is right. District Three are less than impressive. First a tall, lanky boy called Monitor is called up. He looks to be about my age, but his arms look like they would snap if he lifted anything heavier than a toaster. Regardless, he seems quite pleased with himself as he makes his way onto the stage, pushing up his glasses and waving to a few friends. The girl is not much more intimidating. Though Sparka is slightly better built than Monitor, she is also quite short, quiet and mousy, and I'm quite shocked when Sorenne quotes her age as being sixteen. As the conversation turns to Four, Aqua let's out a high squeal of delight, causing her to collapse onto Finnick's lap.

'Oops!' she cries giggling. I wonder out loud how difficult it must be to be so badly challenged when it came to equilibrium. Corill snorts loudly, concealing it badly as a cough as Mags cackles under her breath. Even Orange-brows who is standing guard at the door chuckles a little. I turn to see Aqua shooting me a look that could turn small children to stone, while Finnick stares impassively at the television.

I see myself called up, looking inevitably mental, wrapped up in my net and sparkly wetsuit. I'm not surprised that Aqua backs away a little as I stumble towards her, looking like some kind of wild animal that has been captured. I smirk a little at the irony. Claudius and Sorenne's voices are half amused, half regretful as they commentate on the unfolding events: Claudius chuckles at my reaction, while Sorenne laments that the mentally deficient are always the first to go in the arena and there's not going to be much good footage of me. I can't hold in my laughter as Finnick face-palms.

'What did I ever do,' he says in a long-suffering voice, 'to deserve a tribute like you. How am I going to get you the slightest bit of credibility after that performance?' I know I shouldn't find it funny, but I can't help snickering some more. Maybe it's the expression on Aqua's face as I stagger towards her, or the panic on Finnick's as he drags me away from Corill, but right at that moment, the games seem so far away, that I could be sitting in a room at a friend's watching a particularly strange tribute embarrass themselves. The girl on the television doesn't seem like me at all.

The rolecall continues and soon enough, the tributes start to blur into each other. I try desperately to remember their names, even though I know it's not going to make any difference, but by the time Ten's coat of arms appears, revolving on the screen, I've started to name them by their physical attributes. It doesn't help that most of them have very foreign names, only familiar because of similar tributes in previous games. I'm sure the girl from Six was called Satsuma or something similar. A boy from Ten also stood out. Immediately when he is called up on stage, it is obvious that something is wrong. His face is crumpled, taking on a similar appearance to mine when my name was announced. He however, is also staring forward with wild eyes, and stumbling up the stairs like the dead. My first thought is that he is having some sort of seizure. I feel Mags slump in her seat next to me and give a tired little sigh.

Then, I realise the truth with a shock like cold water. He is _blind. _Disability has always been a risk in the Games, but it isn't very often that the impairment is this severe. Being blind takes away your chance: no matter how good you are with your other senses. This would truly be a public execution. I scan for everyone's reactions. Mags looks a little older, and Corill is suddenly very pale. Even Aqua is grimacing. Only Finnick seems unaffected. He continues to stare at the screen, his face as impassive as rock. A knot of anger seems to tighten in my stomach. I find myself wanting him to react, to say how outrageous it is that this is happening. But the silence stretches on.

Only moments later however, it is broken by a piercing, heartbreaking scream. A girl, Hera, who looks to be about fourteen years old, is called up from Eleven. She looks horrified, first trying to run for it, but only succeeding in dashing smack into a pair of peacekeepers' arms. She struggles desperately, reaching and crying out for her mother, the sounds coming from her mouth tearing from her throat as she is dragged up and made to stand on stage. The coordinator for Eleven grips her upper arm, with hands topped by talons. I'm suddenly very grateful for Aqua. The emaciated pair from Twelve with their coal dust faces and defiantly haunting grey eyes do nothing to improve my mood.

The programme ends with one last flash of Claudius' smile and a burst of static. The TV goes silent, and for a long time, nobody speaks. Orange-brows starts to shift a little uncomfortably in the corner. Finally, Aqua gets up and flicks the light switch on again, filling the car with the same synthetic flickering as in the dining car.

'Well,' she says, looking around at everyone a little impatiently, 'I don't think that was too bad! There's a few you might have to look out for, but overall…' I tune her out quickly, not wanting to hear the Capitol's viewpoint on what we have just witnessed. I glance briefly at Corill. He looks speculative. I jump a little as Finnick stands very suddenly, flicking his hair out of his face and smiling grimly.

'At least there's four out of the running,' he says, satisfaction the main component in his smooth voice, 'five if you count that Monitor idiot. Maybe there's a chance for you after all Annaelie.' I stare at him in pure shock, anger flashing white hot through my veins, making my neck prickle and my muscles tense like springs. I actually feel my teeth grind against each other as my fists curl, and ugly things start to rise in my throat.

'Don't,' I say, surprising myself with how calm my voice sounded, 'just…don't' I raise a shaking finger and see anger cloud his face. I can tell that he has immediately caught my drift. The car is suddenly very quiet again, everyone staring at me and Finnick.

'Oh were you planning on dropping out of the Hunger Games then?' Finnick asks venomously, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 'Why didn't you say so before? I'm sure President Snow would be very accommodating.' He snorts mirthlessly, but even in his anger I see him throw a quick glance to the Peacekeepers, aware that his last statement could be slightly dangerous. 'You need to grow up Annie, because if you think _compassion,'_ he says the word tauntingly, making it sound ridiculous, 'is going to help you out in that arena, you're very much mistaken.'

'You are NOT MY MENTOR!' I snarl, feeling hot, swirling disgust pulse through me. 'You put on this charming mask and make everyone think you're misunderstood, but then you say things like that and give yourself away. Everyone saw you in the games! You are just a MONSTER!' I see, for a fraction of a second, a flicker of surprise and hurt in his eyes before they turn cold again.

'And you,' he says, turning away from me and wrenching open the door to the dining car, 'are a dead woman.' The door slams behind him but the murmur echoes louder than ever inside my head. _Dead woman. Dead woman. You are a dead woman. _I let out a shout of pure anger and frustration, not caring about the stares I am garnering from the others, before running after him, aiming a kick at the dining table as I pass it. I launch myself down the corridor, banging into walls and doors as I run for my bedroom. I reach the door and barge it open, letting out another scream: half anger, half fear and dissolving into sobs that wrack my body, biting into my pillow and hitting the mattress as hard as I can.

IT ISN'T FAIR. Why is it me? Why do I have to go to the games? Why do I have to be mentored by that sick…. I miss Four. I miss Isabeth. I miss the Corill I used to know. I miss my mum. I miss the Finnick I met earlier. I miss… I miss… I miss the possibilities. The what-could-have-beens that have been snatched away from me. How can he be so cut-throat and so charming at the same time? It feels like I am running down a hill so fast that I've lost control. I can see the sharpened spikes at the bottom, but I am going way too fast to even try to stop. Then he had appeared, and showed me a path through the spikes: it was unlikely that I'd make it, but I had a slim chance if I listened to him. Now it feels like Finnick has suddenly vanished again, leaving me with no clue how to avoid death. _You are a dead woman._

And _why,_ I ask myself, pounding my head into the pillow again, do I now feel cold waves of guilt stealing into my mind. Why should I feel guilty? What have I done wrong?

I pull myself slowly upwards so that I am sitting up against the headboard and draw my knees up to my chin, resting my throbbing head on top. I stare out the window, now pitch black, with only the occasional light-signal flying past to remind me that we are moving. The movement rocks me gently and I feel my brain growing heavy with exhaustion as I drift between sleep and reality, hardly knowing which was which. Hours, or minutes later, I hear the soft click of the door opening and a thin slice of golden light bisects my bed. I don't bother looking around, not caring who it is, or what they have to say.

'Don't be too hard on Finnick,' comes a soft, quavering voice from the doorway. I turn my head slightly to peer through the dark at Mags, saying nothing. 'I hope you'll never have to understand what they did to him.' I jerk my head up a little, surprised.

'What?' I ask quickly. 'I've seen his Games, I'm going to them myself now! I know what they've done to him!' Mags looks at me with an unfathomable expression.

'If you truly think the Games are the worst thing that they can do to someone,' she says in an empty voice, 'maybe there's still hope for you.' I stare at her in consternation, trying to fathom out a meaning from her words.

'But what-?'

'All I'm saying,' she interrupts, a small smile finding its way back onto her face, 'is maybe that mask you say he wears? Maybe that's even thicker than you think.' She withdraws slightly, pulling the door gently behind her. 'Goodnight Annaelie.' The door clicks shut, leaving me completely in the dark.

**Hiya Earlier in the chapter I called some food jell-O. I'm English and the stuff I was referring to, we call jelly, but the Hunger Games is set in North- America and I know that in the US jelly is something different than what we call it here! I think it's called jell-O in the US but if not feel free to correct me :D I am still slightly confused over the whole jam, jelly, jell-O thing ;)**

**Also, this chapter is rather rambling I'm afraid. It's going to be that kind of story I think sadly: it's why I love fanfiction, you can put as many details into it as you want! It will hopefully get slightly more exciting in the next few chapters, after Annie stops giving you a life story up to this point :') I hope none of you mind: if it get's too ridiculously long and I start describing the air quality or whatever, I'm open to firm reviews ;) **

**Alsooo, a big big thank you to FoxFace is 4ever for giving me a shove back to this fic. I had slightly forgotten it, but I'm definitely updating all my fics over Christmas and after my January exams things should get back to regular updating again! Thanks for all your support up till now **

**Reviews are so lovely, they should be given medals or something **


	3. The Kitchen

**I know I'm a failure at life, and this chapter isn't even very exciting, just ramblings… it will get more exciting though, I promise. I have plans for this one now Please leave a review if you wish! I do love absolutely every one of them! Thanks guys! **

**Oriel x**

I wake seemingly seconds after I finally drop off. It's a little cold in the bedroom, and as I glance over to window, I see the pale light of early dawn diffusing gently through the glass. I don't feel tired at all, which doesn't surprise me. Netters have to wake very early in Four if we are to get any sort of decent catch at all, especially after a storm. I get up at four in the morning most days, when the air is warm, but hasn't developed the humidity which will come later, and most of the morning's catch is still mine. I think longingly of the freezing water that I would usually be immersed in by now and suddenly my deliciously comfortable bed seems slightly too warm.

I throw the covers off and am immediately assaulted by freezing air. Even my skirt and shirt from the day before do nothing to protect me. I hop around for a couple of seconds on my bare feet, before trying to grab my duvet off my bed to wrap around myself. I stare at it, nonplussed as I realise it has been sewn into the bed. For some reason, this makes me collapse into giggles. I try to imagine a situation in which attaching the bedclothes to the bed would possibly be necessary, and my mind is filled by the image of me trying to smuggle a duvet off the train under my jacket. Maybe they think it would give me an advantage in the arena. I wonder idly whether a tribute has ever used a duvet as their district token, pulling open the top drawer of my dresser and locating a fluffy blanket which immediately gives me some relief from the morning air.

I glance out of the window and gasp, racing towards the frosted glass and almost tripping over my newly acquired blanket in the process. Outside is the most beautiful and alien view I have ever seen in my life: as endless and majestic as the sea. Of course, I have seen images like this before. This is the shot they almost always use as an introduction to Five, when coverage of the victory tour is shown, but it is completely different in person. The mountains seem to stretch on forever, the most distant peaks merely grey smudges against the pearly morning sky. My breath mists up the glass and I wipe it away hurriedly, recoiling at the freezing temperature. We are high up. Higher probably than I have ever been in my life, and we are surrounded by snow. Great drifts of it are piled up on the mountain ledges and on the trees which look nothing like any trees we have at home. I've never actually seen snow for real: we never have any in Four, and I'm gripped by a sudden urge to barge into Aqua's room and demand for the train to be stopped. It would be nice to touch snow before… Well, before the games.

I trace the crystallised patterns in the corners of the window, ignoring the cold. I try to let my mind catch up on the events of the previous day. My name is Annaelie Cresta. I was reaped yesterday. My best friend Corill was also reaped. I feel a swoop of guilt at his name: I'll need to make it up to him today, or at least explain. Finnick Odair is my mentor. That sentence overloads my brain with a million new ones: Finnick Odair is a monster. Finnick Odair is beautiful. Finnick Odair is dangerous. Finnick Odair feels safe. Finnick Odair is a killer. Finnick Odair thinks I can win. Maybe his mask is even thicker than you think… I groan, shaking my head hard. It's too early and too confusing to try and figure him out. I resolve myself that today, things will be kept purely professional between us two. I will not talk to him unless I need to. I will be nice to him, merely because I need him to help me.

I shiver a little, realising how mercenary I sound. Do I really want to win after all? What about Corill? He has a whole family at home, while I have no one. No one will be waiting for me, except perhaps Isabeth, and she will get over it if I die. Why should he die, and I get to live? Surely he has more right to live. I grimace rubbing my forehead. What about those other tributes? What about the girl who cried? What about the blind boy? What about Satsuma? Despite myself, I smile at the name. It is impossible to think like this. It is even more impossible to choose who should win, and it is downright ridiculous to even think that I could protect them in the arena. It is kill or be killed. I'm not ready to die yet.

I make my way into the bathroom, glancing briefly towards the shower, but immediately deciding against it. I am still not sufficiently recovered from my run in with it yesterday to do anything as stupid as to even set foot in it again. I head for the sink instead and fill it with water, splashing it over my face with a shiver. It's freezing. I stare up at the mirror and back into my own eyes. Could I really kill someone? The horrible this is, I think I could. If it was a choice, their life or mine, I'd do it. And I wouldn't feel guilty. My own green eyes stare at me accusingly. They seem bigger in my face somehow. I'm paler than a usual netter from Four, my face covered in sunspots instead of tan, and my cheeks slightly flushed from the cold water. My lips are soft, childlike. Not a killer's mouth. I hold my right arm up to the mirror, flexing it. It is slender, soft. I'm nimble and agile, but I'm not strong. Not strong enough. Do I physically have the ability to kill someone? I couldn't fight a career, that much is certain. Could I kill them in their sleep? I feel like I should be cringing away from the idea, but my mind welcomes it. I think about strategy. What if two of them are asleep? Could I kill the first one, then kill the second one before they kill me?

I feel I should be shocked by my callousness, but I'm not. Finnick blooms out of nowhere into my mind and I shy away in disgust. But if I stop and think about it, are we much different? I shake my head hard again. No overthinking things, I tell myself, splashing my face with more freezing water for emphasis. I let out a small gasp and shiver violently. I need to find some more clothes, and then I need to leave my bedroom I decide. I need something to distract me. In here, my thoughts are left to swirl freely around my mind.

I reluctantly shed the blanket and quickly make my bed look tidy. I strip off the rest of my clothes and let out a small scream as the cold air makes contact with my skin, immediately regretting not laying out clothes before hand. If only I had my wetsuit spray here with me. I glance around for some kind of basket in which to put my clothes. I'm not sure how the Capitol deals with the conundrum of dirty clothes, so I can only assume that they do the same thing as we do at home: collect them together and then go and wash them in some kind of fresh water. I debate putting them in the shower for a moment and putting on jet, but I'm still not quite brave enough to enter it again. Maybe I could just throw them in the fish tank.

A metal panel on the wall catches my eye as I look around for some kind of container (it doesn't seem right to leave them on the floor). It has a picture of some sort of bucket etched into it, criss-crossed by lines. I look closer, trying to work out what the picture is. It looks an awful lot like our washing basket at home. This must be where we put dirty clothes! I shake my head at the Capitol's need to overcomplicate things and reach out tentatively to touch the panel. The top of the panel falls open and I jump back, thinking I've broken it. It slides smoothly down however, stopping at a forty-five degree angle with a small 'ping!' I hesitate for only a second before dropping my old clothes into it.

WHHOOOOSHHHH! I stumble backwards in shock as my clothes are enveloped by flame and the chute closes again with a small puff of ash, the only thing left of my skirt and shirt. I stand for about a minute, trying to work out what has just happened. I stare at the panel in horror, comprehension finally appearing. The sign was of a bin, not a basket. I just incinerated my clothes. A burst of hilarity runs through me and I giggle a little. What are the Peacekeepers going to say? I resolve not to mention this anyone, not even Mags and hurriedly set to searching for some new clothes. My skin is starting to look a little blue.

Unfortunately, there are not many warm clothes to choose from. They seem to have given me an average Four wardrobe which, while it is very kind of them, is built for endless sunny days, not a freezing cold train. I put on the warmest things I can find: what looks like a woolly version of my wetsuit and a large fur coat which they have put in as a nod towards not freezing to death I suppose. I check myself in the mirror: I look like I've been eaten by a bear. I can't quite bring myself to remove its delicious warmth however. It's very early in the morning. I probably won't be seen by anyone anyway.

My door smacks into someone as I open it and I wince. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to think who the worst person to run into at this point would be. My question is answered only a second later.

'Annaelie?' a muffled voice snaps from in front of me. My heart sinks. Aqua.

I begin to correct her, opening my eyes: 'It's Ann-ARGHH!' I recoil in horror for what feels like the fiftieth time that morning. My immediate conclusion is that Aqua is bleeding horribly from her face. 'What happened to you?' I ask, half repulsed, half fascinated.

'Oh be quiet,' she snaps acidly, 'Haven't you ever seen a facemask? It's extract of tomato.' I'm about to ask what on earth a tomato is, but she continues: 'Keeps me looking perfect. I wouldn't expect a districter like you to understand.' I open my mouth, and then close it again. It would just be too easy with her standing there in what looks like some kind of wrap made of kelp with extract of whatsit all over her face.

'You're right Aqua,' I agree, my face solemn, 'You do look very beautiful.' I almost ruin it all by giggling at the end. As it is, she glances at me suspiciously, before preening a little and continuing in a slightly less harsh voice.

'Why are you up at this time anyway?' she frowns at me, 'It's five o'clock, your wake up calls not until half six.' I shrug.

'I'm a netter,' I say in explanation. She scrutinises me for a while longer, then shakes her head, apparently accepting that she'll never understand. We stand for a few seconds in awkward silence.

'Have you seen Finn?' she asks suddenly, her face suspicious again. I smirk a little at the nickname. For a few seconds I debate opening my bedroom door and shouting _Finnick put some clothes on and come out. Aqua wants to see you! _just to see Aqua's reaction, but I'm not quite that cruel.

'No, I've just woken up,' I say sweetly. She looks at me for a second longer.

'You look ridiculous.' She says suddenly, before waddling away, her movement considerably constricted by her seaweed wrap. She reaches the door and opens it with difficulty. I blow an extremely loud raspberry at her retreating figure. Her head whips around and I look around in mock astonishment before shrugging at her with a bemused expression on my face. For a second she looks like she might claw at me with those nails of hers, but she evidently realises she can't hobble that far, because she satisfies herself with a filthy look. I grin as the door slams and huddle the coat around me, although it seems to be much warmer in the corridor.

All the cars I check are deserted as I meander my way up the train, humming slowly to myself and watching the scenery fly past. I briefly wonder whether I could go and see Corill, but remind myself that he is a Career. They don't wake up nearly as early as the rest of Four, except when they are on survival training trips. I think about waking Finnick, then remind myself of my decision. I sigh, my hand on the doorknob of the seventh carriage I've walked through.

'Morning.' I jump violently at the voice and spin around so quickly that I almost fall over my coat. It is Orange-brows. I see his eyes widen at my outfit and his face lights up with laughter.

'Morning,' I say, slightly warily. He is a peacekeeper after all, no matter how unthreatening his eyebrows look. There is an awkward silence in which he darts quick glances at me and then out the window. I wonder whether he's contemplating jumping out of it, just to break the tension. Finally, I can't take it any more. I have to ask.

'Why do you have dark brown hair and orange eyebrows?' I blurt out. He looks taken aback, then his face turns slightly pink and his hand jumps to his hair, as if the answer is hidden up there somewhere.

'My errr,' he clears his throat nervously and glances at the flashing camera that is mounted on the on the oak panelled wall, 'My hair is actually,' he points to his ridiculous eyebrows, 'this colour.' I stare at him, trying to imagine his face with all that orangeness surrounding it. I can't.

'Why did you change it?' I ask interestedly, 'That colour is so much more... exciting!' It truly is. I have never seen someone who's hair is naturally that colour. Hair in Four does tend to lean towards reddish-gold: Finnick is proof of that, but never anything this vivid. Orange brows pauses before he answers my question, as if he's looking for the right way to phrase it.

'The peace-keepers aren't allowed to have such… vivid appearances.' I can't help but let out a snort of laughter. It's all so ridiculous.

'They made you dye your hair because you're a peace-keeper?' I ask incredulously, 'Why?' Orange-brows shifts uncomfortably.

'There were concerns,' he says in a slightly desperate voice, 'the uniform.' I giggle harder. They made OB dye his hair because it clashed with the outfit? I decide I will never understand the Capitol's priorities. Something clicks in my mind and I glance back at OB another question forming on my lips, but it is answered immediately by OB's look of longing as he stares out the window at the snowy peaks.

'You're from Five?' I guess, glancing back out at the scenery. He nods with a rueful smile on his face. I am surprised. Usually peace-keepers are from the Capitol or Two. It is only very rarely that people from other districts are allowed or (if the rumours are to be believed) forced to join the peace-keeper squad. I long to ask OB what his story is, but something in his expression stops me. It's hollow and at the same time somehow protective. I study him more closely than I have before. Although he looks as solid as a brick wall, he also seems old: late forties or fifties at least. He is pale and his face is spattered with the same sunspots that cover mine. The more I look, the more out-of-place the dark hair looks on him. It leeches him of his colour and makes him look tired and washed-out. They've taken his fire away.

'What's snow like?' I suddenly find myself asking in a reverent voice. I stare out at the blanket again. We fly past an animal I've never actually seen before but know to be a deer. Its tracks seem to chase us in the otherwise perfect white. He glances down at me and a smile warms his features, giving me a glimpse of the glowing embers.

'It's the best thing in the world,' he says softly.

We continue to watch the mountains fly past, until the sun, which has been slowly lightening the horizon, suddenly bursts forth from behind the peaks. The snow turns dazzling white and I stare at it in awe ignoring my eyes watering.

'Come on,' says OB, his voice quiet, but making me jump none-the-less, 'We're not really supposed to let you in the kitchens, but breakfast won't be for another hour at least. You must be hungry.' He looks at me with something like pity in his eyes. My stomach rumbles loudly, confirming his point and he chuckles, hoisting his vicious looking gun onto his back and heading towards the door. I wonder briefly about asking him to teach me how to use the gun, but I'm pretty sure that this is certainly not allowed, and either way I somehow doubt that there will be a sub-machine gun in the arena: it's not the Capitol's style.

I follow OB deeper into the train and the corridors get less lush and more utilitarian as we progress. His stark, white peacekeeper outfit seems more at home here, than in the sumptuous décor of the main carriages. No carpets on the walls here. We finally arrive into a large kitchen area which is unnaturally quiet and covered from ceiling to floor in steel. It is so cold that I can see my breath rising in clouds and I huddle the coat around me. A young man smiles at me as I let him pass and I immediately recognise the uniform of an Avox. In fact, the whole kitchen is full of them. I shudder slightly: that's why it seems so quiet. I concentrate instead on the sizzling of cookers around the walls and the wonderful smell coming from a big pan filled with pink strips of meat. I recognize it from last night.

'Bacon,' I say wistfully, inhaling deeply. I hear a chuckle from behind me and turn to grin at OB. 'Are you sure this okay?' I ask him. I don't want him to lose his job and I'm sure that Aqua would be less than happy about this little excursion.

'MO?' OB shouts around the corner. A big, stainless steel door is obstructing my view of what lies beyond. 'Turn the heating up would you? It's like a meat locker in here!' I hear a few crashes and then a rustling.

'As you command your majesty,' a very sarcastic voice answers. The warmth in the room immediately increases as I hear the whir of a fan being switched on, 'It's not like I've been slaving away here since four in the morning! Cooking the finest food for those poor kids. Fattening them up like pigs for the…' A handsome, if slightly careworn blonde head appears from around the corner, partially obscured by a heap of steel pots balanced precariously in a pair of red-raw hands. He stops abruptly when he catches sight of me, and I see pure shock in his face.

I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder and hear OB's deep voice. 'This is _Annie_.' He says simply.

Mo seems to shake himself, dropping the pans on the counter, and brushing his hands down on his white overalls. He holds out his hands to me and pulls me into an unexpected hug. He smells rather comfortingly of fish.

'Nice coat Annie,' he says in a low voice, before adding in an after tone: 'I'm Moran.' I can feel the guilt radiating in waves off him and immediately forgive him. It's not his fault after all: it must be hard to see the tributes every year, knowing that they are most likely going to their deaths. I feel a rush of sympathy towards Mags and, I suppose, Finnick. It must be beyond difficult to get close to the tributes every year, only to have to watch them get killed year after year. Hard enough for our district which, every few years, will produce a victor. Suddenly I think I understand the Twelve mentor, who always seems to be drunk, a little more. Maybe that's what Mags was talking about last night.

My train of thought is broken as a plate of steaming bacon is placed in front of me by a smiling OB. My momentarily distracted appetite returns with a vengeance and I attack the meat piled upon my plate with cutlery provided by Mo. I catch him looking at me with a satisfied expression on his face. 'Nice to have someone appreciate good bacon,' he mutters, flicking a towel off a rail and turning his attention to a spitting pan on his left hand side, which he flips expertly. 'So which one have you got landed with this year Annie?' he asks good-naturedly, bending underneath the worktop and extracting steel bowls from the cupboards beneath. I look to OB for help, my mouth bulging with bacon and a smile flickers across his face.

'She's got old Mr Fantastic,' he offers to my relief, 'lucky girl,' he adds as an afterthought. I roll my eyes, but Mo lets out a long low whistle, raising his voice to a shout as he retreats into the cupboard again.

'Lucky girl indeed, you've landed one of the best mentors in the Games Annie, even if he is the most insufferable pretty boy.' He emerges again carrying a large pile of food and winking at me, before focusing on something a little beyond my shoulder. 'Yes, the most insufferable, idiotic, pretentious, vain…' A familiar voice cuts in, making me jump.

'Aw Mo! You think I'm pretty!' I whip my head around to the newcomer, catching Finnick's eye for half a second before looking down again. I'm trying to be haughty, but once again, his prettiness thwarts my plans and I merely drop a large chunk of bacon on the floor accidently. Rolling my eyes, I stoop to pick it up, as Finnick breezes past me without as much as a good morning. He and Mo glare at each other for a few seconds, before bursting into hearty laughter and embracing, clapping each other on the backs. I make a face at Finnick's back, accidently catching Mo's eye, who laughs.

'You've got a good one this year Finn,' he says grinning, unwrapping some delicious looking creamy something and starting to spoon it into a bowl, 'Annie has great taste! She likes my bacon!' Finnick doesn't answer, looking me up and down with a distasteful expression.

'Annaelie,' he says slowly, drawing it out, so I know I'm in trouble, 'What in the name of all that's holy are you wearing?' I very almost burst out laughing. As it is, I manage to control myself, plastering the most indifferent expression I can possibly muster on my face.

'Clothes.' I say shortly, turning back to my bacon. I can see Mo shaking laughing out of the corner of my eye and studiously ignore him.

'Annaelie,' Finnick says again, advancing menacingly upon me, 'where are the clothes that we both approved for you to wear last night? The ones we said you were going to wash and wear again this morning?' I look down at my bacon as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, pulling my fur coat slightly more securely around me.

'They are… elsewhere.' I say in a dignified voice. 'They were not suitable for this weather.' I look up at his face and immediately know it's a mistake. His eyes pierce into mine and I can tell he's seen right through me.

'Annaelie, where are your clothes?' I lower my eyes to my bacon again, taking a slow bite and chewing it thoughtfully, ignoring my irritated mentor. I can hear his teeth grinding slowly. He makes a sudden movement, swinging my chair around to face him.

'Iincineratedthem,' I blurt out before I can stop myself. He looks at me in confusion.

'You…what?'

'I incinerated them,' I say more slowly this time, looking down at the floor as he starts to rant. I am surprised to see that Finnick's feet are bare, even though it's still chilly. I am even more surprised to see that he has the single most ugly pair of feet I have ever seen in my life. They are too large, and knobbly with the toes sticking out at odd angles and such a startling white against his tan shins that I can see the crisscross of veins underneath the translucent skin. I glance up at his face which is mid-lecture, yet still manages to take my breath away with its carved cheekbones and strong jaw, down his body which is all tan muscle underneath a grey shirt and then once again down at his feet. There they are, still looking as awful as before. I smile down at them kindly: they make Finnick seem more human somehow.

'…first the shower, now this…' Finnick falters, catching me staring. He too glances down at his feet and I think I see the hint of a blush grace his cheeks. 'What now?' he says impatiently.

'I was just wondering if you spray-tanned your legs?' He looks at me in pure shock, then turns incredulously to Mo and OB.

'See what I have to deal with,' he says faintly, gesturing lamely at me.

'Question still stands Finn,' chuckles Mo disappearing once again into the cupboard. Finnick sits down heavily at the metal bar, leaning over and swiping a large amount of the creamy stuff from the metal bowl before shovelling it into his mouth. I look at him with distaste and he grins, grabbing a piece of my bacon and scooping some of the creamy stuff on it before handing it back to me. I try it gingerly and find it to be even more delicious than sugar. I reach for the bowl again, but Finnick swipes it away from under my fingers spitefully, cradling it like his first born child and dunking his fingers in again.

I turn to OB who is munching on some crusty white bread.

'He'd be a terrible father,' I say knowledgeably, and OB nods. At least someone understands me around here.

'C'mon Finn,' says Mo, reappearing and scowling at the sight of the bowl in Finnick's hands which he swipes back, 'what's the secret of the golden glow?'

'If I told you that Moran, you know I'd have to kill you,' he says seriously, starting to lick the remaining cream off his fingers. 'It's the Capitol's most closely guarded secret.' Mo chuckles, turning to flip the pan once again. 'I think the real question is what we're going to do about you Annie,' he says turning to me. 'I'm going to order you some new clothes, but I want you to promise me, right now, that throughout your entire stay in the Capitol, you will not go near anymore Capitol technology. No one's going to care how mysterious you are if you've managed to get your arm bitten off by an alarm clock before you get there.'

'I promise,' I say fervently. I wouldn't go anywhere near the shiny, menacing technology in my bedroom if he paid me. 'But you're going to have to feed the fish.' I add facetiously.

By the time I've finished my mountain of bacon, the sun is pouring through the blinds, making the steel gleam lethally. Our little early morning group has fallen into a comfortable silence. It turns out that Finnick and Mo had been friends for years, ever since Finnick had, like me, wandered into the kitchen on his journey to the Capitol five years ago. OB is a new peacekeeper recruit, but after a short discussion over the merit of hair dye, he and Finnick seem to get on well enough. They make a big fuss of me, except Finnick, making sure I've got enough food and asking me about my life back in Four. I tell them about Isabeth and am pleased when Mo pulls a face when I mention Aqua.

'Wants specially prepared sushi that one,' he says bitterly, 'waste of a good fish as far as I'm concerned. She only wants one section of its fin.'

I also talk about Corill, at which point, Finnick scoffs from behind the marbled inventory list he has been poring over.

'Yes, Annie's _very_ close to Corill,' he sniggers. I feel myself go scarlet and bring my eyes back down to my bacon.

'Don't worry Annie,' whispers Mo conspiratorially, 'Finn's just jealous, he's never been very good with the ladies.' I laugh in spite of myself at the mock dejected glare Finnick shoots Mo a second later. OB, who has been concentrating on demolishing a giant omelette which a pretty Avox produced for him finally stands up, stretchingstill munching on a giant omelette that a pretty, avox put in front of him.

'C'mon you,' he says glancing towards the door, 'time to get you down to breakfast before someone finds you in here and I lose my job.' I follow him dutifully towards the door, giving Mo a quick wave and Finnick a derisive look (I still haven't forgotten last night). I pause as the door closes and I hear Mo's low voice.

'It's a shame,' he says, 'I like her.' There's a long pause, and then a heavy sigh. Finnick's voice is so faint that I barely catch his next words.

'Me too.'

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are more beautiful than Finnick's feet…almost. ;) **

**Oriel x**


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